


Aftermath

by Akigriffin



Series: Aftermath [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen, Jack Kelly gets what he deserves, M/M, Manhattan Is A Mess, My Spot will always be good with kids, Race is missing, Takes place after Seize the Day, davey has no idea what he's doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 03:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11199528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akigriffin/pseuds/Akigriffin
Summary: In the aftermath of the goons and bulls, Jack is missing, as is Race, and Davey had no idea how to lead. Have no fear, Brooklyn’s here.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> (Casting in my head: Spot is ‘92 Spot (Gabriel Damon), Race is Ben Cook, Elmer is Anthony Zas, Winner is Kathryn Gallagher, and Socks is Tommy Bracco.)

_This was why I refused_ , Spot thought as he ran towards the Lower Manhattan lodging house with a group of his Brooklyn kids. He knew it would end badly and he wouldn’t endanger his own in a fight that might not lead anywhere. 

Sending a scout to watch over the strike _had_ been a good idea, however. Manhattan was scattered, and most of their newsies hurt. At least one had been dragged to the Refuge. As soon as his scout got back to him, Spot gathered a team to bring over. He may not have been willing to risk his newsies in the fight, but Manhattan were still allies and if he could help in the aftermath, he would.

 

It was chaos in front of the lodging house. Davey was obviously trying to keep everyone calm, and doing a poor job at it. _He’s not a leader_ Spot was reminded. He pushed his way over to the other boy, careful not to be too rough on anyone who looked hurt.

“Where the hell is Jack?” Spot demanded. 

Davey spun around to look at Spot. “What are you doing here?”

“Helpin’. Now, answer my question.”

“I don’t know. He disappeared sometime during the…” Davey trailed off, unable to find the right word for everything that happened. 

“Goddamn it. Fine, where’s Race?”

Davey looked at him, puzzled. “Race? Why do you want Race?” It was well known, even to him, that he and Race were close, but he was surprised the young man was focusing on him at that moment.

“Are yous stupid? Second in command? Knows who has homes and who should be here? He should be keepin’ this place calm, not you. Now where is the bastard?”

“I...no one has seen him, either. I don’t know what to do here.”

“That much is clear,” Spot grumbled. He sighed. “You got lotsa others missin’?”

“I think so. I haven’t seen a lot of guys that I think don’t have families.”

“Fine.” He turned to the Brooklyn kids he brought with him. “Stitch, James, and Frank. Stay here and help with patchin’. Rest of ya. Groups of three. Go that way, that way, and that way. Children and Race are priority here, but trys and get everyone. 

“Davey,” Spot said, turning back to him, “find guys here up for searchin’ and send ‘em every other direction. Gotta get them here, or home if they has one.”

Davey nodded, glad at least someone had a plan.

“Winner and Socks, you’s with me. We’s takin’ north.”

“Wait, you’re not staying here?” Davey asked.

“Gonna be better on the streets. ‘Specially for any kids out there.”

“Kids?”

“Shuddap. I knows what I’m doin’. Frank’s good at organizin’ people and calmin’ them. Use that.”

Spot left with the last word, followed by a girl and a well muscled boy.

 

The three of them jogged up the streets, going through every alley they found. There were some newsies hiding in the shadows. Most of them recognized Spot, making it easier to convince them it was safe. 

A few times they came across older newsies trying to shield kids. This was how Spot found Race.

Race was practically curled around another boy who wasn’t much younger than Spot. He didn’t recognize him, though, so most likely he was newer. 

He motioned at Winner and Socks to stay at the mouth of the alley as he walked slowly towards the pair. As he got closer he could see bruises that were forming on the kid’s face and a bloody tear on his shirt sleeve. More alarmingly, he saw a good amount of blood staining the hair on the back of Race’s head. 

“Hey,” he said gently. The kid looked up but Race only tightened his arms. 

“Leave ‘em alone. ‘S just a kid.”

“Race?” Spot said as he got closer. 

“You can’t have him,” Race muttered.

“He...he won’ snap outta it,” the kid said. 

Spot nodded. “What’s your name, kiddo?” he asked as he knelt down.

“Elmer.”

“I’m Spot Conlon.”

“ _The_ Spot Conlon?”

“Only Spot Conlon in New York. I need to know how hurt you are.”

“Mostly bruises. Race got it much worse.”

“Think you can make it to the house on your own? Bulls are all gone.”

Elmer nodded. “Yous sure it’s safe?”

“Not much for lyin’, me.”

“Race? You hear? It’s safe now. We can go home.”

“Can’t take him,” Race muttered.

“He’s still not here,” Elmer said, trying to hide his panic. Spot helped him get out of Race’s grip, reassuring his friend best he could that Elmer was in safe hands. Race kept protesting the whole time. 

When Elmer was finally free, Spot sent him on his way. “Brooklyn!” he called and both Socks and Winner rushed over to him. “Socks, you keep goin’. Winner, stick within whistle. Have a feelin’ Race won’t be makin’ it back on his own.”

As soon as the two were gone, Spot sunk to the ground next to Race and pulled the older boy against him. Race struggled for a moment before calming down again.

“You’s okay, Manhattan, but your friends need ya’.” Spot ran a hand through some of the blond tuffs that weren’t stained before pulling out a handkerchief and pressing it to the head wound. Race let out a pained whine. “I know,” he whispered. 

It was a good ten minutes of Race’s panicked whispers and Spot’s soothing words before Race finally went quiet. A minute after that he spoke, his voice sounding almost normal again.

“What are you doin’ here?” he asked moving so he could see Spot’s face. 

“Glad to see ya back with us.”

“Why’re you’s ‘ere?”

“‘Cause Manhattan is a mess. Can’t let it go down in flames.”

“...That bad?”

“Davey has no idea what he’s doin’.”

“But Jack does,” Race pointed out.

“But Jack is missin’.”

Race groaned. “How long?”

“You all scattered ‘bout four hours ago,” Spot told him. “Far as I can tell. We’s got here two.”

“...I remember grabbin’ Elmer, tryin’ to get him outta danger,” Race said as he looked around. “Was he-”

“Kid is fine,” Spot promised. “Sent him back awhile ago. Yous did a good job for someone who couldn’t think.” 

They were both silent for a few moments. Spot continued to press the handkerchief to the wound, and used his other hand to rub Race’s arm. 

“Yous okay now, right?”

Race nodded. “I need to go back, don’t I?”

“Unless Jack showed up, they need you.”

Race tried to push himself up, falling back with a yell of pain. “Think my leg is hurt,” he said when he got his breath back.

Spot let out a whistle and a few seconds later Winner ran to them. “Boss?”

“Left leg,” Spot said. “We’s gonna tag team to get him back.”

The girl nodded and the two of them steadied Race as they made their way to the house.

 

It took hours for Race to get everything under control, but by dark everyone who was hurt was patched up, everyone missing was found, and everyone had even been fed, thanks to Kloppman. Spot sent his kids home when they were no longer needed, but stayed behind himself.

Race leaned against a brick building, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the massive pain on the back of his head. 

“Stitch says is looked worse than it is,” Spot said, walking up to him.

Race opened his one non-black eye. “Don’t mean it don’t hurt like hell.”

Spot shrugged. “I need to speak to yous in private ‘fore I leave.”

Race nodded and motioned towards the closest alley. 

“Thinks you’s gonna go for round two?” Spot asked, leaning his weight against his cane. 

“Dunno yet,” Race admitted. 

“If yous do, Brooklyn will join. You keeps going after this mess, means you’s dedicated.”

Spot spit in his hand, Race did the same, and they shook on it. 

“You’re not gonna tell anyone ‘bout the alley, are ya? That was...weak.”

“Nah, wasn’t weak. You protected that kid while you was outta your mind. But no, not gonna tell. You gonna tell anyone I cuddled you for so long?”

Race laughed. “Never have before.”

Spot glanced around the alley to make sure it was empty before pressing a kiss against Race’s lips. “I’m glad you’s not dead,” he said softly.

“Me too,” Race laughed. 

Spot hit him on his good arm before giving him another quick kiss. “Gotta get back to my own boys. Try not to get in more trouble without me.”

Race stuck his tongue out, but as soon as Spot started walking away, he broke into a wide grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Random facts about my Brooklynites up there that aren't relevant to the story: Winner and Socks are thick as thieves. Between the two of them they can beat any game, bet, or challenge. That’s how Whinny got the nickname Winner. Stitch is called that because he knows how to stitch people up. Not properly, he’s a kid, but it works.
> 
> And come check me out on tumblr! Akigriffin there, too.


End file.
